


Colorless.

by keepingeyesclosed



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Explanations, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 07:27:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7213318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keepingeyesclosed/pseuds/keepingeyesclosed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I was always there, ya know. Watching from the sidelines, not really having much of a say in anything that happened around me.</p><p>To put my problem bluntly, I switch between timelines when I go to sleep. It used to be completely random, but now I have a decent amount of control of it. My conscience fades from one vessel to another, putting me in situations I didn't even know another me was experiencing.</p><p>I gave up on changing shit, because living multiple lives is just too exhausting to to put effort into anything. Hah, I'm kinda a full-time timeline jumper, if you think about it. But jumping 24/7 is taking a pretty heavy toll on my mental health.</p><p>I'm writing this, a letter to I-don't-fucking-know-who, so I don't resort to telling anyone about this mind-fuckery and ending up in an asylum.</p><p>Actually, now that I think about it... I wouldn't mind telling her.</p><p> </p><p>  <strong>(Burgerpants narrative for my stories // The Caretaker // Monster Lead Me Home. // It is recommended, but optional, to read this.)</strong></p>
            </blockquote>





	Colorless.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [her.](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=her.).



> //Author's note//
> 
> My canon Burgerpants: He is the only UT character in my stories who is the same throughout every timeline. Not only that, but he can remember all the other timelines (similar to Sans and Frisk/Chara) and will make small references from other fics.
> 
> He's so fucking done with life.
> 
> //
> 
> The insert (Y/N) is the you from The Caretaker.
> 
> The insert ___________ is the you from Monster Lead Me Home.
> 
> And the insert (Name) is the you, as a person, in all the timelines.
> 
> Same person, same values, different because of time and circumstance. Hope it's not too complicated. Enjoy some BP bullshit ❤

I think... I think we have a choice in our lives.

A choice of what to do with pain.

For example, let's say two people grew up with physically and/or emotionally abusive parents, or something like that. Situations like that hurt, and will scar you for the rest of your life whether you say it doesn't or not. It's drilled into your memories, and even if you get amnesia or some shit, your body remembers the abuse. _That's_ how profound it is.

Now, let's say that some of these people... Let's call them Reds, decides to wallow in their bitterness and self-pity, and distribute their pain and suffering and creating this cycle of abuse for others around them.

These people, _the Reds_ , are weak. They're the narcissistic, manipulative ones who feel like the world owes them something. Reds piss me off. They use their own suffering as an excuse to abuse others and get away with it. But that's not even the most fucked up part, which I will explain in a moment.

Let's talk about the Blues.

The Blues are the ones who decide to forgive. Now let's clarify something here: Forgiveness is not vindication. Forgiveness is telling someone who has wronged you that you're moving on, not excusing their actions.

Blues tend to be selfless and self-destructive. They give more than they have, and expect nothing in return. They learn to keep expectations low, and are easy to guilt, manipulate, and break down.

Now we get to the fucked up part.

Blues defend Reds, even when Reds drink them down and take everything they have. Blues justify them, validate them, make them feel like they do no wrong, all while they're being torn apart from the inside out.

Bloody hell.

So anyways, we're talking about Blues and Reds and all that jazz, but people aren't just black and white, or in this case, blue and red creatures, ya know. There's a spectrum of colors that can define a person.

I'm Grey for the most part, with hints of Red and Black. I will leave the meaning of those colors to your imagination.

Now you must be thinking, _"Oh wow, BP! You're so insightful and wise, you should write a book!"_

Now, stop right there partner. I'm just a rinky-dink employee of a fast food joint with no vision. You really think I came up with this shit? Nah.

This philosophy is her's.

And by _her's_ , I mean (Name)'s. Fucking (Name) dude, I don't even know where to _begin_ with her. She's a mystery to me, and to pretty much everyone she knows. Even Gaster couldn't figure her out. _Gaster, the science dweeb, master of time and space, cannot understand the enigma that is (Name)._

The only person who ever got close to understanding is Sans. But he's on a whole different level of insane, so that's to be expected.

But yeah, (Name). She's, uh, strange, to put it lightly. First time I met her was at a party. Grillby's bar party, if I remember correctly, my first time on the surface. She came to the bar I was tending, plopped herself down on a stool and ordered the hard stuff right off the bat. She saw through my strained bartender charade, told me to relax. Said something along the lines of, " _It's only me, and I don't care for formality._ "

What a gal, am I right?

So we started talking and as we spoke I noticed something... Off about her. Like she was putting on a charade herself. I'm not sure how to explain it. I'll try my best, I guess.

When I looked in her eyes, straight through to her soul, I saw color. Well, that's normal. Her soul was a soft pink churning with a pastel blue, as if it were struggling decide between the two. Again, totally normal.

It wasn't until we got further into the conversation that... Something... Peculiar started happening.

She drank a little more and started opening up a bit... And I saw something in her _crack through the surface._

Souls have layers of color and can morph from one to another, but although that is unpredictable, it is certain that souls have a hue throughout it's entire being.

But something-- I can only describe it as a bright light-- was trying to break free. The light would pulse and push, only to be shoved back down by the swirling layer of pink. I've never seen anything like it.

I was curious.

So after the party I went to talk to Toriel, the go-to soul expert. I asked, hypothetically, about the anomaly I witnessed, and she just... Laughed. Said it was ridiculous, that if I saw it it was probably just my imagination. But I'm not crazy. I know what I saw.

I asked again.

" _Just, hypothetically. What would it mean?_ " I said. This time, Toriel simply shook her head dismissively.

" _I have never heard of such a thing, dear. I wouldn't dwell on it too much._ " She smiled.

And I didn't. Not until I saw her in a different timeline.

The second first time we met-- kinda a weird thing to say-- I didn't recognize her. Sure, she looked pretty much the same, and she definitely had the sass and intelligence of ___________... but this one? She was too genuine. Too free-spirited. It wasn't until she introduced herself as (Y/N) that I started to make that connection, and even then I wasn't entirely convinced.

When we had our little eye-to-eye, or in this case, eye-to-soul chat after the party. I caught a small glimpse of her soul, but I couldn't look at it longer for two seconds without it hurting my eyes. Her soul was different, bare of all color, untethered by the hues that bound her other soul down. To say it was bright is an understatement. It was fucking blinding.

Needless to say, I was curious again. But unfortunately in this timeline Toriel is a Bitch with a capital B, so asking her is off the table. My next choice is Gaster, but we have a pretty rocky relationship so that's a massive nope as well. 

Now I aint the smartest guy on the planet, but I'm capable of making a few inquiries and doing some research on my own, and to be totally honest I got most of my answers from just observing her. I watched her like the creep I am, and wrote down her defining traits and other little things that seemed significant. It was the most effort I put into something in the past twenty-three timelines.

I kept studying her for months, whenever I could. And when I had a sizable amount of data, I sat down and tried to come to a conclusion. My first thought when I went through my papers was,

" _What the fricking spoon-flipping fork is this darn shiz?_ "

Hey, I've been hanging out with (Y/N), the ultimate curse word replacer for months. Don't flipping judge me.

Anyways,

Everything I wrote about her contradicted itself. She's kind. She's cruel. She's patient. She can't wait for shit. She's stone-hearted. She's sensitive. She's caring. She's apathetic. She's strong-willed. She's submissive. She's dark. She's bright. 

She's everything. She's nothing.

I tried to find anything, anything at all that'll correlate, but the only correlation I could find was that there was no correlation, if that makes any sense.

I thought maybe it was my problem, that maybe I fucked up somewhere. I was about to scratch all my work. What a waste of time, right? I could've been smoking, drinking, doing _anything_ but this. Even as I beat myself up over months of seemingly useless soul research, a little voice in the back of my head nagged at me to give it one more shot at understanding.

Oh well, what have I got to lose?

I looked through the papers. Thought through everything again. Nothing was working. She is the epitome of an enigma. 110% fucking mad.

Right when I was about to completely give up, I ran into Muffet. We exchanged greetings and small talk, and it didn't occur to me to ask her about (Name) until we were balls deep in a conversation about weather. I'm serious, it kinda went like this:

_"These clouds are ridiculous, right BP? Totally bipolar. The weather gods should make up their freakin' minds."_

_"Heh, yeah. It's like-- Wait. Holy. Holy shit."_

_"Wha--?"_

_"I should've just asked you! Dammit I'm stupid!"_

_"What on earth are you--"_

_"How would you describe (Y/N). Like her, as a person. Actually, how would you describe her soul?"_

_"Why--"_

_"Just, answer. Please."_

_"Well... She's really sweet."_

_"Yeah yeah, everyone knows that. I mean, like, deep down."_

_"Uh... She's a lot of things. Kinda undefinable, you know? Very contradicting."_

_"Psh. Tell me about it. I can't figure it out, the only correlating trait is that nothing correlates--"_

_Wait._

_Didn't I... Already..._

_**And then it hit me.** _

I ran back to my apartment, without saying another word to Muffet. It was gonna be hard to explain myself later, but whatever. I can't lose this thought.

I barged into my bedroom, which was trashed with paper and Chinese takeout containers, and rushed to the desk. Whipping out a piece of paper and pen, write everything that's rushing through my mind without bothering to think it through or sit down. When my thoughts were emptied from my brain and onto the paper, I threw down the pen, stumbled to the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of whiskey, and with the alcohol and the paper in hand, I threw myself in bed. There I drank, reading through it over and over again. And what I wrote was:

**There is no answer, Burgerpants you fucking moron.**

**(Name) can't be defined. She isn't even self-defined. Why the fuck do you think she's an artist? Words are incompetent for someone like her. She's everything she wants to be, shapeless, free, and everything someone needs her to be, selfless, exquisite.**

**The correlation is that there is none. You've said it twice already, why didn't you get it?!**

**The only thing you need to understand is that you can't understand. She doesn't even get herself, how on God's green earth did you think that _you_ or even Gaster could get her? She doesn't have a formula, get over yourself. She's the physical manifestation of a living contradiction.**

**Congratufuckinglations, you solved the mystery! Now watch in horror as your own discovery makes you lose whatever sanity you have left you little shit, god dammit son of a fucking bitch you freaking--**

I'm cutting the letter short, cuz the rest of it is literally just me cussing myself out.

Needless to say, I read through it all, and I was a happy man. A drunk, happy man.

The only thing that would make this better is if she was here.

So I texted her, **hye, gess what??? wroet a thing and yo shuld read it :()**

She didn't text back, but lo and behold, fifteen minutes later my front door opens and in walks Short n' Sweet.

She must have just been walking to the bus stop after work, because she was still wearing her pink striped uniform. We made eye contact, but not a single word was exchanged as she threw down her messenger bag, kicked off her shoes and jumped onto the bed with me. 

"So," she says, grabbing the bottle from my hands and taking a swig, "What did you write that was _so profound_ you brought out the whiskey?"

"Heh." I hiccup, handing her the letter, "Jus' some soul stuff..."

She takes the paper from me and I reach for the bottle, but she keeps it away from me.

"Sorry buddy, I want you as sober as possible so you can explain this." She grins, setting the bottle on the floor beside her, "Besides, we established that if you died of liver failure, I'd kill you."

"Yes ma'am." I snort and throw myself into the pillows. She lays next to me, her eyes flitting across the page as she reads. She's so close, I can feel her body heat radiating off her. She smells like vanilla and cigarette smoke, a strange but not unpleasant scent. It's kinda strange... She smells the same in every timeline I've encountered so far, and every time we become really close friends. Knowing that I have my friend here and throughout any timeline makes my anxiety melt away.

Or maybe it's just the booze.

"Hey." She whispers, putting down the paper and turning towards me.

"Hey." I answer, my words slightly slurred.

"Am I..." she hesitates, but still continues, "Is my soul... Colorless?"

I furrow my eyebrows in confusion. She knows about souls? Since when?

"What makes you ask that?" I say, taking the paper from her hands. She sighs and turns on her back, staring blankly at the cracked ceiling.

"Gaster... Was researching my soul again."

"Ugh, (Y/N)." I groan, rubbing my hand down my face, "Didn't he promise you he wouldn't do shit like that anymore? Who the fuck _researches_ their girlfriend anyways?"

"Yeah yeah, he promised." She waves her hands in the air dramatically, "But this is the last anomaly he wants to look into. Apparently-- okay get this-- My soul is the same in every timeline. There's a few timelines where there's color 'residue', he calls it, on the outside layer, but other than that there's no change and no explanation. Isn't that crazy?"

"Totes." I say sarcastically, trying my best to not add, _"I already knew that."_

"Oh come on, it's interesting!" She protests, "And besides, this is the only thing he's working on. No funny business this time around."

"Oh yeah?" I say unbelievingly, "Are you sure he's not lying?"

Silence.

"I trust him." She mumbles, studying the cracks in the ceiling like they're a map of Gaster's mind.

"Trust isn't the same as certainty." I comment.

"You're such Debbie downer." She snorts, "I trust him! That's all I can do."

"Whatever." I sigh melodramatically, "Let's get back to your question. Your soul, colorless?"

"Uh, yeah..." She says slowly, "Gaster examined my soul, and uh, apparently it isn't... Normal, by soul standards."

"There's an entire spectrum of soul types." I say reassuringly, knowing all too well that her's falls into no existing category.

"Yeah, but..." I look over at her and see that she's grimacing so much it looks painful, "I'm a special case. And Gaster... Hasn't figured out why..."

"You mean _can't_ figure out why." I correct, and she rolls her eyes, a smile playing on her lips.

"Whatever you say, BP. Anyways... as a last resort he asked me why I'm like this. And I didn't know- What was I-" She stutters, her voice shaking, "How the _fuck_ was I supposed to know what's wrong with me?! I don't have answers, I know nothing about myself, just like you said. I couldn't tell him--"

"Hold on, wait up buddy." I prop myself on my elbow, "First of all, there's nothing wrong with you."

"What makes you so sure." She says dubiously, looking at me with a pained expression.

"I just am, sweetheart. You don't need logic and reason to see that. Second of all... did he do anything to you?"

She rushes to defend him, as usual.

"O-of course not! He just..." she hesitates, "He yelled at me. Kicked me out of his workshop... It was messy. But I know he's going to apologize later, he always does."

Silence settles between us. She can sense that I don't approve of their relationship, no words are needed to express that. But she chooses to ignore that anyways, and changes the subject.

"I'm indefinable." She mutters, "I'm literally the thing that Gaster hates the most. An enigma."

"Jesus- REALLY (Y/N)?! Even after all he puts you through you STILL care for him." I say exasperatedly, "You either think nothing of yourself, or you're a really... Intense... Caretaker..." I trail off, my last word barely audible.

"Intense whatnow?" She asks, unfazed by my sudden outburst.

"Hey." I say decidedly, "Why don't we make your own category?"

The confusion is apparent on her face as she says, "What on earth are you talking about?"

"Your soul doesn't fall into any particular category, so why don't we make your own?" I clarify, and her expression brightens.

"That'd be awesome!" She chirps, but then says in a downcasted tone, "But... What category would it be? The 'Colorless' category?"

"The Caretaker." I state determinedly.

"The Caretaker." She echoes, thinking it over, "Why that, out of everything about me you chose **'The Caretaker'** " she says the last word with excessive drama. I elbow her arm and she giggles that stupid adorable giggle.

"Shut up, that's your category. Take it or leave it." I grumble.

"I'll take it!" She says hurriedly, rubbing her arm, "Thanks BP. You're a great friend, whether you want to believe it or not."

"Still think you should dump your boyfriend's lanky ass."

"Oh please. You're just jealous that you don't have a tall, sarcastic, lovable scientist monster boyfriend."

"As if. Like I'd ever date a nerd like him."

"He's so tall, and handsome as hell~"

"Don't."

**Author's Note:**

> AHHH THIS STORY WENT EVERYWHERE AND NOWHERE I'M SORRY IF IT WAS BAD I JUST HAD TO WRITE IT OUT


End file.
